


A Lone Whistle in the Dark

by blondsak, seekrest



Series: The Loss of Innocence [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Peter Parker, College Student Peter Parker, Hurt Peter Parker, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Spider-Man: Far From Home Compliant, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker is a Good Babysitter, Post-Spider-Man: Far From Home, Protective Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, and secure the blessings of defenestrated canon to ourselves and our posterity, back on our bs, in order to form a more perfect alternate universe, insure domestic tranquility for the Stark family, promote the general welfare of Peter Parker, provide for the common Marvel fandoms, tl;dr - we threw canon out the WINDOW, we the people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:54:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23780383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blondsak/pseuds/blondsak, https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekrest/pseuds/seekrest
Summary: Peter shakes his head as he holds the phone to his ear, laughing as he watches Morgan run across the beach. “It hasn’t even been a full day, Tony. I know this is your first vacation in ages, but in case you forgot-- you’re supposed to be trying to relax.”“Alright well, just-- call if you need anything, okay?”“I know you’re nervous, but we’ll be fine,” Peter says with a smile, “Besides, I think I can handle a seven year-old for five days.”
Relationships: Peter Parker & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: The Loss of Innocence [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1745542
Comments: 530
Kudos: 520
Collections: irondad wips!!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [searchingforstars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/searchingforstars/gifts).



> Happy birthday searchingforstars!! We love your writing and hope you enjoy this story!! It’s but a small token of our appreciation for you <3 <3 <3

_“So everything is really going fine so far? Madam Secretary isn’t acting out yet, is she?”_

Peter shakes his head, laughing as he watches Morgan run across the beach from where he’s sitting on the porch, safely out of the heat. “It hasn’t even been a full day, Tony. I know this is your first vacation in ages, but in case you forgot-- you’re supposed to be trying to relax.”

There’s silence on the other end for a few moments, Peter hearing Pepper say something in a teasing voice-- Tony grumbling incoherently in response.

_“Alright, well, seems both you and Pep are in agreement, which means I’ve already lost. Just-- call if you need anything, okay?”_

“I know you’re nervous, but we’ll be fine. Besides, I think I can handle a seven year-old - even a very mischievous one - for five days.”

 _“I’m going to remind you that you said that when you’re calling me for help trying to get her to stay in bed and go the fu--_ fudge _to sleep.”_

Peter rolls his eyes, still smiling. “You’re not on speaker, Tony-- you can swear. And I promise you, we’ll be just fine. Also, don’t you two have a snorkeling thing booked in like,” Peter glances at the time on the cell phone before putting it back to his ear, “twenty minutes?”

 _“How is it that you know our vacation schedule better than I do, huh?”_ A chuckle. _“Alright kid, I trust you. Give the munchkin three hugs each for us, alright? We’ll call again right before Morgan’s bedtime to say goodnight. Love you.”_

“Love you too,” Peter says fondly, hanging up and putting his phone down with a soft sigh.

He glances around the cabin, the sound of Morgan chattering to herself intermingling with the soft buzzing of insects and the quiet of the water gently lapping against the shore.

It’d been nearly three years since the world had been made right again, Captain Marvel snapping her fingers and ending Thanos and his armies for good. It felt almost like a bad dream now, those first few months of readjusting back into the world. 

But now, just a few weeks into his summer break after finishing his first year of Columbia, Peter was glad in more ways than one that life had finally settled into a newfound rhythm. 

His phone buzzes again, Peter glancing at it before smiling at who it’s from - MJ sending him a selfie of her shooting him the finger in front of the Mona Lisa. He taps out a reply, watching as the text bubble lights up. 

If Peter is honest, he’d hoped that he and MJ would have a little more time together for their first summer break as college students, especially since she’d chosen to go to MIT for undergrad. But when the opportunity came up for her to do a prestigious summer art internship at the Louvre, Peter had been the first one to encourage it.

The transition from high school to college had been rough - rougher than either of them had expected, but they’d made it through - considering they’d weathered far worse when his secret identity had been exposed by the _Daily Bugle_ after their summer vacation from hell. 

Peter texts her back and forth for a few minutes before glancing back up, looking around for Morgan and spotting her near where the shore met the treeline-- picking through some rocks for a sandcastle. Peter stands and slips his phone in his pocket before calling out, “Hey, Mo! Time for lunch!”

“But I haven’t gone swimming yet!” she yells back, head turning to Peter before unceremoniously dropping the rocks on the ground, Peter snickering to himself as she runs towards him. 

“Can we go swimming first? Please please _please?”_

“But Mo, aren’t you hungry?” Peter offers up-- his stomach rumbling loudly from not having eaten since breakfast that morning. 

“No! I want to go swimming _first!”_

“Morgan, I’m sorry but I really need to eat something and so should you, for that matter,” Peter replies, doing his best to remain upbeat so as to avoid a tantrum. “How about we go right before dinner instead?”

Morgan cocks her head, considering him with narrowed eyes.

“Your proposal is acceptable,” she finally replies as she trudges up the porch steps, sounding so much like Pepper in that moment that Peter has to laugh.

This was another thing he had missed while he was busy with classes, college life in the city taking up more time than it ever had in high school. His visits up to the cabin were few and far between this semester, what with trying to cram in Spider-Man, lectures and exams. 

And now, with his upcoming summer internship with Dr. Otto Octavius beginning in a few weeks, he’s grateful that for a while at least he can focus on getting some quality time with Morgan before the days yet again slipped away from him. 

Morgan scampers up the steps, skidding to a stop before staring at Peter with an eyebrow raised - a look that’s eerily similar to Tony as she asks, “What are you doing?”

“Waiting for you, squirt. Come on, we can make sandwiches or something.”

Morgan rolls her eyes, sighing dramatically, “Dad usually makes us carbonara on Tuesdays.” 

“Well, your dad is also retired and has entirely too much time on his hands so,” Morgan frowns, Peter smirking as he ruffles with her hair a little, “sandwiches it is.”

“You’re the _worst_ ,” Morgan says teasingly, Peter grinning before she gently poking her in the side. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Now let’s go find some grub-- last one in has to wash the dishes!”

* * *

After lunch, Peter suggests they play a board game, but at the word _game_ Morgan jumps up and down excitedly, saying, “Hide and seek! Please, Peter?”

Peter sighs fondly, smiling down at her before looking around outside. It’s still sunny if windy out, but with just the two of them out here - and knowing for certain who Morgan will want to be the seeker - he knows he’ll have to set some ground rules first.

“Okay Mo, but no hiding outside, okay? We can only play if it’s just in the cabin.”

Morgan groans but doesn’t make too much of a fuss, just points to the large kitchen pantry and demands Peter count in there. She waits patiently until he has the door closed before Peter hears her scamper off-- deliberately ignoring his enhanced hearing as he loudly counts to one-hundred before entering back into the kitchen. 

He heads for the living room first - in the opposite direction he’d heard her feet go - and makes a loud show of wondering where she could be hidden as he checks behind the couch and curtains. After doing the same thing in the den, Pepper’s office, and two downstairs guest bedrooms, he heads upstairs-- feeling confident that he’d heard them creak even _without_ his enhancements around numbers fifty-nine or sixty. 

Carefully he combs through first Morgan’s bedroom and then Tony and Pepper’s-- only to frown to himself when he doesn’t find her in either, as her go-to hiding spot last time they’d played had been under her own or her parent’s beds. 

But that had also been at Christmas - only months ago to an adult but seemingly forever in the life of a seven year-old - so Peter supposes it’s not surprising she’d have a new favorite spot now. With a knowing smirk Peter heads for the only bedroom left upstairs-- his own.

“Hmm, I wonder if Morgan is in here,” he says as he enters, looking around the room. There aren’t many places to hide but Peter takes his time, slowly rifling through the closet that he can tell is empty as soon as he opens it before heading into the bathroom and checking behind the shower curtain. 

“Where did she go?” he asks playfully as he leans over onto his knees, only to lift up the bed curtain and yell, “Aha!”

However, his face falls when there’s nothing there but dust bunnies and what looks like a very expensive piece of modern art wrapped up in plastic. 

“Morgan?” he calls out, rising to his feet-- looking around the room again even though he _knows_ there’s no way he could have missed her. 

A quick double-check of the second floor has him going back down to the main level and doing another run-through-- even taking the time to go down into the basement lab even though he is _positive_ Morgan isn’t supposed to know the code to the door. True worry starts to flood him when she’s not down there either, and he races up the basement stairs three at a time, finding himself back in the living room.

“Morgan? You can come out now, you won!” he calls out one last time-- finally using his enhanced hearing to check for her heartbeat throughout the cabin. His worry graduates to panic when he realizes there is no trace of it-- that Morgan _isn’t_ in the cabin at all. 

“FRIDAY, where is Morgan?” he asks.

“Little Miss exited the cabin eleven minutes and forty-eight seconds ago. She was last picked up by my perimeter scans on the western edge of the lawn nine minutes and thirteen seconds ago.”

“What! Why didn’t you say anything?” Peter cries out, running for the lakeside door.

“Little Miss is allowed off-premises provided she stays on the hiking path and only goes as far as the treehouse,” FRIDAY replies. 

But Peter is hardly listening, already outside now-- only to hear the porch steps creak under his feet, realizing with no small amount of self-recrimination that those must have been the stairs he had heard earlier while he counted.

“Morgan!” he yells, barely looking around the lawn and over at her small play-tent before racing for the western edge of the treeline and the opening of a path at the far corner.

As he sprints toward the treehouse he tries again to listen for her heartbeat. But for as much as he loves the Stark’s home, he simply hasn’t spent enough time up here to know the different sounds of a forest like he knows the wide-ranging noise pollution of a city, and the reverberations of a thousand creatures ranging from hummingbird-quick flaps to slow and steady turtle steps assault his senses almost immediately.

He doesn’t let it stop him though-- getting all the way out to the empty treehouse and yelling Morgan’s name before it occurs to him that he hadn’t even _glanced_ at the lake when he’d run out of the cabin. 

The same lake Morgan had wanted to go swimming in not an hour before, and had been very disappointed over when Peter had said no.

 _Oh god-- what if she went in the water?_ he thinks as he races back down the path. Morgan could swim pretty well for her age but she still wasn’t yet allowed to enter the lake unattended or without floaties-- and the depth at the end of the dock came up to at least Peter’s neck.

God, what if she had been right there and Peter gone right past her, oblivious?

“Morgan!” he yells again just as he exits the path, eyes desperately scanning across the dock and farther out over the lake-- terrified he’ll see a set of tiny hands reaching for the sky or worse, a small body bobbing listlessly in the waves.

He’s just reached the shore when he senses movement to his left-- relief overcoming him when he spots Morgan coming out from between some trees not thirty feet away from the treehouse path.

“Morgan,” he says sternly, jogging up to her. “What were you doing? I told you to stay inside!”

“But Cubie was out here!” Morgan says, pointing back at the path. “He was waving at me!”

“Cubie?” Peter asks, looking back over at the western edge of the lawn but seeing nobody else. Concerned, he turns back to Morgan, kneeling down and wrapping his hands around her arms. “Who’s Cubie, Mo?”

“My new friend,” Morgan says, as if that explains everything. “He was waving at me to come outside. And then we went to the treehouse and he made a rainbow in the sky just by waving his hands, and after that we went for a walk and he turned all the leaves any color I asked!”

Peter shakes his head. “Morgan, there’s no way you didn’t hear me calling for you. Now tell me the truth: why did you go outside when I told you not to?”

“But I _told_ you already,” Morgan pouts, stomping her foot. “Cubie was out here! And he said if I stayed with him then he’d make the leaves all turn blue and gold like mom’s suit, and he did!”

Peter sighs. He had heard Morgan make up stories before to her parents, but she’d never done it with him. He supposes it’s not surprising she would do so now though, to get out of trouble.

“You really scared me, Morgan. I didn’t know where you were,” he says, getting to his feet.

Morgan bites her lip, looking slightly more ashamed. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to see the leaves. I’m really sorry!”

Peter sighs again, looking back over at the treeline one last time. But just as before, there’s nobody there.

“Alright, Mo,” he finally says, taking her hand and leading her back toward the porch. “But from now on, you have to listen to me when I tell you not to do something, okay? And because you didn’t listen just now--” he steels himself for a tantrum, “--no swimming this afternoon. We can go tomorrow instead.”

Morgan scowls for a few moments, only to nod quietly and accept his words-- Peter figuring she had probably been lectured more than a few times by Tony and Pepper about the dangers of wandering into the forest on her own. 

“Can we watch a movie?” Morgan asks softly just as Peter opens the porch door.

Peter smiles-- another wave of relief passing over him that she was safe and well. “Sure thing, kiddo.”

* * *

After their failed game of hide and seek, Peter figured the rest of the afternoon and evening should be spent in the cabin, even if Morgan argued against a marathon of the Star Wars movies. 

“I don’t want to watch a _space_ movie, Peter. Space is _boring_ ,” Morgan whines, Peter choking back on his soda as he looks at Morgan.

“Space is boring? Are you kidding me? Space is _awesome_ , Mo. There’s so much out there that we don’t know.”

“Yeah, like what?” Morgan asks, making a face as Peter starts to consider how to explain something that he’s loved all his life. 

Despite his one lone trip to the ends of the universe ending in disaster, Peter still loved it - loved the intricacy and all that there was to know, all the possibilities it held and how people spent lifetimes trying to learn all they could, even knowing they’d never even scratch the surface. 

He would’ve guessed that Morgan would have learned all about it from Tony but then, Peter thinks, his own memories of their trip were brief and untinted with grief whereas Tony had had five years to dwell and mourn. 

All things considered, Peter wouldn’t be surprised to learn Tony wasn’t eager to relive the experience any time soon.

“Well, like the _Hubble_ space telescope,” Peter finally replies. “Has your dad ever told you about that?” 

Morgan shakes her head, Peter bringing his phone out of his pocket and tapping out the website before showing it to her. 

She squints, looking at the screen up and down before asking, “What is that?”

“That,” Peter says, moving the phone so that he can look at it too, pointing to the image with his free hand, “is what _Hubble_ ’s looking at right this moment.” 

Morgan blinks, looking at it before turning back to Peter. “It’s just a picture.”

Peter laughs, “No, Mo, this is _space._ Right now, you and I are looking at what a telescope that’s hundreds of miles above the planet is seeing, looking at stars and galaxies that are literally _light years_ away.”

“What’s a light year?” Morgan asks, Peter putting his phone down as he sighs.

Morgan was smart, almost too smart for her own good as Pepper would say. But she was still only seven - Peter forgetting sometimes that while she was Tony’s daughter, she also wasn’t anything like what he’d imagined a seven year-old Tony would be. She wasn’t building circuit boards at four or graduating middle school around the age most kids were learning to tie their shoes.

But Peter didn’t mind, not really. He had always liked the idea of having siblings growing up, even if Ned told him endlessly that it was entirely overrated. Yet Peter had wanted it all the same and even if Tony wasn’t his _dad_ in so many words, he was the next best thing - Morgan being the closest thing he’s ever had to a sister. 

Morgan wasn’t an exact copy of Tony but Peter also didn’t want her to be. Because she was still one good thing - maybe the best thing - to have come from the five years when he’d been gone. 

In the end, Peter loved Morgan for who she was-- and loved now that he got the chance to spend some time with her, considering Happy was on his own much-needed vacation and Captain Rhodes was on a mission.

“A light year is a way of measuring distance when you’re in space, literally how long it would take for light to travel in one Earth year,” he says, holding back a laugh as Morgan’s eyebrows wrinkle in confusion. 

“Is it like time travel?” she asks, Peter actually having to stifle a giggle-- pretending he has a tickle in his throat instead.

“Not quite, more like…” Peter tries to think of a suitable example for her when Morgan pipes up, “Can we watch WALL-E?”

Peter sighs, shaking his head as he smiles. “Okay how about I make you a deal?” 

He leans in conspiratorially, Morgan looking at him curiously.

“We can watch WALL-E again _if_ we get to watch one of my space movies.” 

Morgan purses her lips, considering her options before Peter sees her face change into a smile, nodding as she says, “Yeah, okay. We can do that.”

Peter takes the silent win before nodding to the kitchen. “You wanna go grab the popcorn bowls for me?”

Morgan leaps up from the couch, Peter following after her before opening up one of the cabinets to grab a couple of popcorn bags.

“Can we have pizza for dinner?” Morgan asks.

Peter rolls his eyes. “I promised your mom I’d feed you a vegetable at _least_ once a day, so no.”

Morgan pouts only for Peter to wink and add, “We can make pizza later this week though, if you want.” 

She beams, Peter grinning as he starts to get the popcorn ready - Morgan already trying to “help” him as they unwrap the packaging and put the bags in the microwave. 

“I missed you,” Morgan says, Peter blinking a few times before looking back at her with a soft smile as she continues, “even if you won’t let me eat pizza.” 

Peter rolls his eyes, nudging her with his elbow and putting an arm around her, unsure of where the random outburst of affection came from but welcoming it all the same. Morgan leans into him as they watch the popcorn revolve around the little microwave, her warm pressure at his side reminding Peter of how it had been on those first few days hiding out at the cabin after his identity had been revealed. 

How he’d make popcorn together with the three Starks just like they were now, only to sit down to a happy family film. How Peter had felt safe, and had been able to forget - if only for a little while - how in shambles his life felt at the time.

“Missed you too, Mo,” Peter says, tightening his grip around her shoulder. 

It _was_ nice to be away from everything, away from the city and away from the responsibility that he knew he could never really run away from. He loved being Spider-Man, even more so now that his secret was seemingly protected forever - the world taking his identity being revealed as nothing more than an absurd conspiracy theory, at least after the press release and Fury getting a shape-shifted Skrull to stand in for him with fake face and fight as Spider-Man on national television. The only traction Beck’s video or any of the _Daily Bugle_ follow-up reports ever got now were random message boards on the internet. 

“You know, for someone who has met literal, actual aliens, I would think you’d be a lot more interested in--”

“Space is boring. Only WALL-E makes it fun.”

Peter rolls his eyes, settling into the couch. “Okay, Mo.”

Morgan may not like space much, or not nearly as much as Peter would’ve liked.

But that’s alright-- Peter had the entire week to change her mind.

* * *

It’s when Peter’s washing the dishes at the end of the night, _The Empire Strikes Back_ playing in the background that he feels it - the familiar itch in the back of his neck, snapping his head up and looking around. 

Morgan’s half-passed out on the couch, her head bobbing up and down anytime she started to drift off. Peter’s eyes scan the rest of the room before closing his eyes, listening for anything in the area. 

If he really focuses he can make out the different noises of crickets, frogs, all kinds of animals chittering about. But Peter pushes it further, hearing cars pass each other distantly on the highway that leads off towards the cabin before focusing himself back on the cabin and the steady rhythm of Morgan’s heartbeat in the living room.

Peter opens his eyes. There’s nothing there, no one around them for miles - yet the low buzz of something being wrong still hums in the background, prompting Peter to call out, “Hey FRI?”

“Hello Peter,” FRIDAY’s voice rings out, “Is there anything I can help you with?” 

“Yeah, can you-- can you run a perimeter check for me?” he asks, frowning as his fingers tap against the countertop. 

“Certainly,” FRIDAY responds, Peter waiting until she says, “Perimeter check complete. I do not detect anything out of the ordinary, Peter. Is there something specific you wanted me to look for?”

Peter sighs, shaking his head, “No FRI, it’s all good.”

He glances over to Morgan, any effort to try and stay awake now gone - her head leaning back and mouth open as she sleeps. 

Peter turns back to the sink and resumes washing the last of the dishes - forcing himself to focus on the task at hand and not the buzzing in the back of his mind.

Everything is fine, FRIDAY confirmed it. With that assurance, Peter forces the hum out of his thoughts. 

But even as he settles down with a book, and the night wears on without interruption-- his gut feeling that something’s not quite right never completely leaves.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning passes quietly, yet the sense of unease never goes completely away.

A part of Peter wonders if it’s just some kind of residual stress from the semester that hasn’t quite left, remembering how Tony had told him time and time again that he was incapable of just relaxing when the moment called for it.

_Maybe he’s right_ , Peter thinks to himself as he browses social media on his phone just after lunch - looking up at Morgan who is currently sketching out some kind of artistic creation.

“What are you making?” Peter asks, Morgan looking up at him with a smile before motioning for him to come beside her.

“It’s me and Cubie,” she says plainly, Peter frowning as he slips his phone back in his pocket and gets off the couch, kneeling down beside her on the living room floor. “We’re playing fireworks.”

“What’s uh, what’s fireworks?” Peter asks carefully, remembering his earlier conversation with May about how to approach this.

Ever since the day before and their failed hide and seek game, Morgan had been insistent that Cubie was real - the kind of vivid storytelling that made Peter wonder what was normal for kids. He’d never really had an imaginary friend growing up, but after talking with May, the idea that Morgan had created one seemed less surprising.

“She’s probably bored at the cabin all by herself, Pete,” May had said over the phone, “It’s not so surprising that she’d create herself a little friend.”

“I don’t know, May,” Peter had whispered into the phone, even if Morgan had long been asleep by that time, “It kinda just seems like she made them up because she didn’t want to get into trouble.”

May hums on the other line, Peter glancing out through the window over the dark lake before May had spoken again, “Well, if you think she’s hiding something, play along with her.”

“Huh?” Peter had asked, hearing May’s soft laughter on the other end.

“Do you remember when you and Ned lost Ben’s old baseball bat, after he’d specifically told you not to take it out with you?”

Peter had grimaced at the memory, scratching the back of his neck with his hand before saying, “Yeah, that was uh, not fun.”

“But what did we do?” May asked gently, Peter’s face forming a small smile before replying, “You acted like what I said was true, that someone might’ve broken in and stole it.”

Peter laughs at that, bringing his hand down before saying, “That didn’t last long. I think I caved before you even had the chance to call the police?”

“Oh Pete, we were never gonna call the cops,” May laughed on the other line, “We had Marta on the other line, since she knew as well as we did what you and Ned had been up to.”

“So, you’re saying I should just… lie?” Peter asks incredulously, hearing May laugh again. 

“It’s not lying, Pete. Morgan’s a good girl, wildly creative just like her father. If she made up this… Cubie for whatever reason, the truth will come out. It always does,” May had said patiently, Peter nodding to himself.

May was right - Morgan was a good kid, but she was still just a kid - prone to lying and trying to get out of trouble like anyone else. And if that was the case, letting her tell Peter about her imaginary friend seemed like the easiest way to try and get to the truth.

“Fireworks is gonna be a big party,” Morgan replies confidently, Peter eyeing her carefully before glancing down to the picture that she created, “Cubie said it’s gonna be a big surprise.”

“Are you supposed to tell me about it if it’s a surprise?” Peter asks gently, watching in mild amusement as Morgan’s eyes widen. She quickly turns the paper over, covering it with her body before looking up at Peter.

“Don’t look!”

Peter laughs, despite the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach still nagging at him that something is wrong. He pushes it away in favor of trying to play along as he says, “Okay Mo, I won’t.”

* * *

The next day, Peter’s starting to feel a little antsy in the same way that Morgan is - realizing that for as much as he loved spending time with her that to his remembrance, they hadn’t really spent any length of time together just the two of them in a long time - if _ever_.

It’s why when Morgan asks if she can go outside to play by herself then, Peter can't help but feel a little relieved, if not a little reluctant considering her last disappearing act. 

“I don’t know Mo,” Peter says as Morgan looks at him pleadingly, “I don’t think--”

“Mommy lets me out to the treehouse all the time by myself. She says it’s good for my independence,” Morgan says firmly, pushing her chest out as Peter tries to hold back a laugh.

It certainly sounded like something Pepper would say and Peter knows from previous times that he’s called Tony that Morgan was off in the treehouse on her own. He glances to the time from the clock on the wall as he debates with himself.

He didn’t like the possibility that Morgan would somehow hurt herself without him being there. But he _did_ have some research work he wanted to get into before he started with Dr. Octavius next week and if he was honest, was hoping to actually get a chance to video chat with MJ since he never really could with Morgan around.

Peter turns to Morgan with a firm expression on his face before saying, “Okay, you can go out to the treehouse but you have to be back in the house in thirty minutes.” He points to the Hello Kitty watch that Tony had gotten her, “You know how long that is?”

Morgan rolls her eyes, sounding exasperated as she says, “ _Yes_.”

Peter holds back a laugh, determined to be the adult in the situation when he says, “Then after that, we can do a puzzle or something. How does that sound?”

Morgan’s attitude shifts quickly, smiling as she throws her arms around Peter and says, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” She zooms out of the backdoor before Peter can even respond, Peter looking out after her as she disappears down the hiking path toward the treehouse.

The low buzzing in the back of his mind is still there, a warning system that he was beginning to wonder if was working right - watching the path for a few moments and seeing nothing.

Peter turns and shakes it away, taking out his phone and setting an alarm for thirty minutes before going to grab his laptop. 

* * *

The alarm doesn’t even get the chance to go off before Morgan comes bounding in, a huge smile on her face that immediately falls when she sees who Peter is talking to.

“Why are you talking to _her_?” Morgan says with a frown, MJ looking at the two of them through the video screen. Peter turns in surprise, glancing at his phone to see the timer still had another few minutes to go.

“Hey Mo, just in time,” he says, dodging the question as he turns off the alarm, “Why don’t you go pick out a puzzle for us?”

Morgan’s eyes drift from Peter to MJ, Peter catching the withering look she sends her before she stomps off to the bedroom - MJ barely holding back a laugh until she says, “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Peter says with a sigh, “it’s fine. You know how it is.”

MJ gives a head nod, Peter never being more thankful that he was dating someone as chill as she is - a good thing, considering the kind of shit Peter regularly found himself in - as she says, “I do. Miss you, dork.”

Peter’s smiles at that, tapping his fingers against the table as he says, “Miss you too, Em. I’ll call you tomorrow?”

MJ nods and waves, Peter seeing Morgan sulk in from the corner of his eye before he waves back and ends the call - closing the laptop just as Morgan sighs.

“What did _she_ want?” Morgan asks petulantly, Peter pressing his lips together as he moves his laptop aside. 

“Just checking in, she’s in Europe right now. You know where that is?” Morgan nods glumly, Peter watching as she starts to dump the puzzle pieces out. “She wanted me to tell you she said hi.”

Morgan doesn’t acknowledge him, now inordinately focused on spreading the puzzle pieces out as Peter watches, debating how to proceed.

Morgan had always been a little jealous of MJ, dating back to the first time he’d ever brought her by the cabin - something that he’d hoped she’d outgrown by now. 

“I don’t care what MJ wants,” Morgan says finally, sitting at the seat beside Peter, “it’s not like she cares about you anyway.”

“Morgan,” Peter says with a frown, “Why would you say something like that?”

Morgan bites her lip, glancing up at Peter before shrugging her shoulders. “It’s not me, that’s what Cubie said.”

Peter takes a deep breath, reminding himself of May’s words as he asks, “Why would Cubie think that?”

“Cubie says that MJ is just a h’imberance. That she takes you away from the things that matter most.”

“A.. a hindrance?” Peter says, his mind trying to connect the dots for how Morgan would ever come up with such a word.

Morgan nods as if that’s all the explanation she needs, “Yep. Her and Spider-Man.”

He feels something in his chest tighten at that, remembering all too well that for as much as Morgan didn’t seem to like MJ - she disliked Spider-Man even more.

It was the weirdest thing for Peter, something that only made sense because of how Tony explained it. That for Morgan, Peter and Spider-Man were almost two different people.

Peter might’ve been the older brother she seemed to adore but Spider-Man was the one who gave that brother trouble following his European trip from hell - Peter recalling the tantrum she’d thrown when his identity had been cleared and Peter had finally gotten to move back to the city.

“Why do you think Cubie thinks that?” Peter asks, taking a puzzle piece as he starts to work on some of the corners - watching Morgan who’s trying unsuccessfully to smoosh two pieces together that don’t work into place.

“Cubie says Spider-Man just causes trouble and that if you didn’t have him or MJ you’d… you’d spend more time with me,” she says quietly, eyes still focused on the puzzle.

Peter’s shoulders sag, putting the puzzle piece down as he leans forward and says, “Mo, you know that’s not true right? I know I haven’t been around as much as I used to because of school but--”

“You used to come visit all the time before,” Morgan says, eyes lifting up to meet Peter’s, “but you don’t anymore.”

“Cause of school, Mo. That’s it,” Peter says assuredly, even as Morgan quickly shakes her head and replies, “You were in school before.”

Peter sighs, “College is a lot different, Mo. It’s…” he trails off, reminding himself that he’s talking with a seven year-old - one that doesn’t care about his ridiculous class schedule or tiring part-time job at a coffee shop or the stress of trying to balance his workload, patrolling and everything else.

All Morgan wants - as any kid does - is reassurance.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says with some certainty, “The point is, you know that I love spending time with you, right?”

“Yeah,” Morgan says, picking up another puzzle piece, Peter taking that as a sign to continue as he says, “And you know that me being with MJ or at college doesn’t mean that I don’t want to be with you too, right?”

Morgan doesn’t reply to that, Peter poking at her side as he grins, “Come on, Mo. You already know that you’re my best girl.”

She finally looks up at him with that, a tentative smile on her face as she says, “I’m your favorite?”

Peter laughs, nodding his head as he says, “Yeah Mo, my favorite Morgan in the world.”

He hopes it’s enough to distract her, knowing that he won’t be able to talk her out of her jealousy any more than he can try and explain how complicated his life really is.

But Morgan brightens at that, Peter taking that as a win when she smiles and says, “You’re my favorite Peter too.”

* * *

As per Morgan’s usual bedtime routine, Peter is allowed to choose one book for them to read while she picks another. The past few nights Peter had chosen books from Morgan’s bedroom shelf, but tonight he grabs one from the living room coffee table stack: It’s a Magical World, a collection of the _Calvin and Hobbes_ comic strips from the 80s and 90s. 

Since Peter’s direct questions weren’t getting Morgan to admit why she was using Cubie to mask her feelings, Peter hopes maybe a few similar stories will do the trick.

Morgan hits him with a quizzical look when he returns carrying the heavy book, having already placed her well-loved copy of The Dot back on the shelf.

“Why do you want to read that? It’s so big,” Morgan asks once he’s settled down next to her on top of the bed covers, book in his lap. 

Peter leans in conspiratorially.“Has your mom or dad read any of it to you before?”

“Nope,” Morgan replies, shaking her head. “It always just sits on the coffee table with all the other books nobody ever touches, except dad when he dusts.”

Peter laughs. “Well, it’s about a boy named Calvin who’s around your age and his tiger friend called Hobbes. It’s pretty funny. I think you’ll like it.”

The next twenty minutes are fun and calm. Peter lets Morgan flip through the pages until she sees a comic that perks her interest, only for them to take turns reading panels-- Peter helping her sound out words and explaining their meaning when she doesn’t understand them. He has no doubt that a bunch of the humor goes over her head, but for the most part she is engaged, giggling at all of Calvin’s crazy antics and Hobbes’ soft exasperations.

Finally Peter closes the book, settling it down back into his lap and turning to Morgan. “So, what did you think?”

“It’s good,” Morgan declares. “But, I don’t get why Hobbes kept turning into a stuffed animal whenever Calvin’s mom or dad showed up.”

Peter smiles. A perfect opening.

“Well, Hobbes is only really real to Calvin. He’s not an actual tiger, but more like-- like an imaginary friend,” Peter explains, only to softly ask, “Do you have any imaginary friends, Mo?”

Morgan’s brow furrows. “I used to have one! Her name was Rosa and she was a princess and she had bright green hair.”

Peter nods. “Rosa sounds pretty cool. Any others?”

Morgan shakes her head, Peter trying not to sigh as he asks, “What about Cubie? He’s an imaginary friend, isn’t he?”

Morgan giggles. “No, silly. Cubie is _definitely_ real.”

Peter bites his lip, deliberately keeping his voice light when he asks, “Are you sure maybe he’s not kind of like Hobbes, though? Only real to you, and not real to anyone else?”

When Morgan doesn’t respond except for a pouting noise, Peter sighs softly. “Look Mo, I’m not saying that Cubie isn’t real at all. Even if he’s just real in your head, that’s its own kind of real, and there’s nothing wrong with that. But what’s not okay is to say the reason you said something hurtful about someone - like what you said about MJ earlier today - is because of Cubie, when really it’s your own words.”

Peter only realizes he’s gone too far when Morgan’s eyes fill with tears, a hiccup escaping her.

“But… but he is real, and he did say that,” Morgan says, breath shuddering. “I don’t know why you don’t believe me!”

“Hey, hey Mo,” Peter says comfortingly, putting his arm around her as she leans into his side, wiping her face on his t-shirt. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m just trying to understand, is all. Because if Cubie is a real person, then he should know better than to talk to you when you’re by yourself in the woods. Can you tell me what else it is you guys talk about?”

At that Mo sobers up, pulling away from Peter and wiping her eyes with her arms. “I can’t tell you… Cubie says it’s supposed to be a secret. I’ll get in trouble if I share.”

“Well, what if you introduced me to Cubie?” Peter offers. “Then he could tell me instead, and you wouldn’t get in trouble.”

Peter can’t help but feel a tiny bit relieved when Morgan’s eyes go wide, immediately shaking her head. _Aha, not so real after all._

“No, that’s not allowed either. Cubie says he can’t meet you until the show starts. The one with all the fireworks.”

Peter’s forehead scrunches up, not so much at Morgan’s words but at the way she says them-- matter-of-fact and pointed. It’s almost like she’s repeating what she’s been told… almost as if she really _has_ been talking to someone else.

“Morgan,” he begins, “can you tell me more about Cubie? What he looks like, or where he comes from? Or how he’s able to change the leaves?”

Morgan frowns. “I don’t want to talk about Cubie anymore,” she mumbles. “I want to go to sleep.”

Well, that’s something Peter’s never heard her say before-- usually she’s trying to stay up as late as possible.

The same on-and-off feeling he’s had the last few days - the one that says something isn’t quite right - settles over Peter even as he stands up, leaning over to kiss Morgan’s forehead.

“Good night Mo,” he whispers into her ear. “Sleep tight, okay?”

When Morgan doesn’t answer but turns onto her side to face the wall, Peter wonders for a moment if he should say anything more. But in the end he just turns off her lamp, before shutting the door behind him with a sigh.

He looks down at the Calvin & Hobbes book in his hands. His genius idea had blown up in his face, just like most things usually did. _Parker luck strikes again._

Peter heads back downstairs, putting the book back on the coffee table before going out onto the porch and sitting down in one of the wicker chairs. He leans his head back and closes his eyes, letting the sounds of the trees swaying in the breeze and the waves of the lake wash over him.

He doesn’t mean to fall asleep, but he must have--eyes slamming open again and his whole body starting. He knows immediately it’s been hours, the sounds of the very earliest of the morning birds immediately assaulting his ears.

But that’s not what woke him, he knows-- no, his sixth sense had. Not with a scream of imminent danger, but a small cry for attention-- just enough of a push to make sure he’s alert and aware.

Peter stands up, looking every which way. But as when he stood in the kitchen the night before last, he can’t find anything out of the ordinary. Just for good measure he walks around the house, even going so far as to peer down the darkness of the driveway and the hiking path-- but everything appears as it should be.

Everything but the buzzing in the back of his mind, that is.

When he finally completes the circuit around the cabin he heads inside, leaning back against the porch door as soon as it's locked behind him. “Hey FRIDAY?”

“Yes, Peter?”

“Can you do another perimeter check please?”

Silence for a few seconds, then, “Perimeter check complete. I do not detect anything out of the ordinary, Peter.”

He closes his eyes, yawning-- the buzzing seeming to release along with the long breath out, his mind falling back into the annoying but familiar sense of unease that'd been plaguing him since the morning after Tony and Pepper left.

Peter lets his head fall against the back of the door, thinking. He’s had his powers long enough to know to trust them, but at the same time-- nothing is adding up. His honest best guess - if he assumed Cubie was real and his senses weren’t out of whack, that is - was that a wizard or other magical being must be involved somehow.

But FRIDAY wasn’t detecting anything, and Peter knows that Tony - with Dr. Strange’s help - programmed her to recognize the distinctive energy fluctuations common with dark magic and spells. 

As for Cubie, while Morgan’s stories were odd and slightly concerning, they could thus far all be explained by the overactive imagination of a child eager to push her limits, just like her father always had.

As worrying as it is that his danger sense might be acting up for no good reason, Peter would rather find out that’s the problem than discover there's a hidden threat he's been missing. Either way, he doubts he’s going to get any answers at four in the morning.

With a sigh he heads up to his own bed, setting his alarm for seven and closing his eyes.

But despite his best efforts to settle down and get some more rest, the constant hum never completely lets up-- Peter’s still awake when the chime of his bedside clock goes off hours later. 

* * *

The last full day before Tony and Pepper return home manages to be a mostly pleasant one. Peter doesn’t mention the conversation from the night before, and Morgan doesn’t bring up Cubie either. They spend the morning swimming off the dock and playing on the beach - Peter making sure to send the Starks, May, Happy & Rhodey a silly video of Morgan burying him in the sand - before they settle back into the house for the afternoon, Peter negotiating a viewing of _The Return of the Jedi_ in exchange for yet another rewatch of _WALL-E_. 

Yet by the time the tiny, curious robot is meeting his fellow machine EVE, Peter’s eyelids are drooping - the lack of a full night’s rest catching up to him after a morning spent out in the sun. He lays out on the couch, eyes blinking slowly-- feeling reassured by the sight of Morgan sitting just feet in front of him on the carpet, surrounded by a bunch of throw pillows and focused on the film.

WALL-E and EVE haven’t even left earth before he’s out.

* * *

The sun is casting a soft orange glow across the living room walls when Peter wakes up, yawning and stretching as he leans up from the couch. He’s surprised to find he was out long enough for the movie to finish - the TV screen silently displaying the film’s menu card - and it’s only when he goes to stand that he realizes he’s alone-- all of the room’s pillows still bunched together on the floor, but no familiar little girl among them.

“Morgan?” he calls, but she doesn’t answer-- Peter pulling his phone out to see that it’s already nearing seven. That’s an hour past when they usually eat dinner, and Peter wonders why Morgan didn’t wake him up to get him to make something even as he wanders toward the kitchen, half-expecting to find her in there trying to cook something herself. 

He blames his post-nap fogginess on why he doesn’t notice the porch door is cracked open until he’s just passing by it-- coming to a halt as his eyes go wide at the sight.

“Morgan!” he calls out more loudly, voice echoing around the seemingly empty cabin-- terror flooding him at the thought that he’d lost her for the second time in less than a week. 

He’s about to head outside in search of her when he hears a doorknob twist from the room over-- running back into the livingroom to see Morgan emerging from behind the reinforced door that led to Tony’s basement lab. 

The basement lab Peter knows she’s never supposed to go into unsupervised.

“Morgan, what the he--” Peter begins, only to shake his head and take a deep breath before trying again. “Did you go outside while I was asleep? And what were you doing in your dad’s lab? You know you’re not supposed to go down there alone.”

Morgan’s eyes go wide as she stands completely still, and Peter can tell that she had definitely been banking on not getting caught. When she doesn’t respond, Peter walks over to her-- putting his hand on her back and guiding her to the couch where they both sit down.

“Morgan, I asked you a question,” he says forcefully, trying to keep his face neutral. “Now tell me the truth: did you go outside?”

Timidly, Morgan nods.

Peter looks back out toward where the sun is setting over the lake for a few moments, taking another few deep breaths-- feeling the adrenaline from his panic just moments ago when he thought Morgan had been missing flow out of him.

He looks back up at Morgan, who is staring down at her hands, playing with a bead bracelet on her wrist-- studiously avoiding his gaze. “Can you tell me why you went outside?”

“I wanted to see Cubie,” Morgan whispers, before adding more insistently, “but I only went to the treehouse and back, I swear! Besides, you never said I couldn't go outside if you were sleeping.”

“You’re right, I didn’t,” Peter concedes after a few seconds, though his mouth twists because he’s positive that even if she didn’t technically break a rule, Morgan knows better than to disappear outside like that when no adults know where she’s gone.

However, he lets that go in favor of addressing what feels like the bigger issue.

“But what about the basement, huh? You’re not even supposed to know the code to get in, nevermind go down there by yourself.”

Morgan shrugs. “I’ve known the code since I was like, practically a _baby_. Dad’s not sneaky at all. It’s 0-7-1-7-2-0-1-9-- my birthday!”

Peter internally groans, wondering if Tony was aware Morgan had caught him inputting the code enough times to figure out the pattern of the numbers. Probably not, he guesses, or the man would have changed it.

“Just because you know the code still doesn’t mean you can go down there,” Peter says, voice firm. “You know that, Mo. So why did you?”

Morgan bites her lip. “I can’t tell. It’s a secret.”

Peter blows a slow breath out through his nose, trying to control his growing frustration. “And who said you can’t tell? Was it Cubie?”

Morgan gives a tight nod, Peter closing his eyes as he pinches the bridge of his nose-- trying to think. This is so far out of his usual element, and for the first time all week-- he’s starting to feel truly in over his head.

After half a minute he feels a small hand on his arm after a few moments, tugging at him gently. “Please don’t be mad, Peter! I won’t do it again, I promise.”

“I’m not mad, Mo,” he finally responds, “I’m just really disappointed and-- and hurt, that you keep breaking the rules when your parents asked you to be extra good for me.” Morgan’s chin trembles as he continues, “I thought we were going to have only fun together, but-- it’s a lot less fun for me when I don’t feel like I can trust you to listen.”

“I’m sorry,” Morgan says, tears filling her eyes. “I’m really, really sorry! Please don’t be mad!”

Peter leans back up, still mulling his options over for a few more moments before coming to a decision.

“I’m not mad,” Peter repeats, Morgan looking relieved until he continues, “But I _am_ going to have to tell your mom and dad about this when they get back.”

“But--”

“Not buts, Mo,” Peter says sternly. “You’ve broken too many rules this week, and more importantly-- there’s a reason you weren’t allowed in the basement. There’s lots of things down there - equipment and tech - that aren’t for kids. Adults don’t make rules just to annoy you, okay? We do it to keep you safe.”

“I was just trying to help Cubie talk to fr--”

“No more excuses, Mo,” Peter interrupts-- not feeling up to hearing Morgan lie to him again. “Now, it’s been over an hour since we were supposed to eat. Let’s go find some dinner and then after that it’ll be time for you to get ready for bed before your mom and dad call and say goodnight.”

Morgan bites her lip again. “Okay,” she finally says, before adding, “I really am sorry.”

Something about the way she says it has Peter believing she’s sincere, and he gives a soft smile. “I forgive you, even if I still have to tell your parents when they get home. But for now-- what do you say to tacos for dinner?”

Morgan’s eyes light up. “Can I have guacamole on mine?”

Peter grins, standing up and offering Morgan his hand-- pulling her off the couch and into his side and giving her a gentle hug, feeling the last of the tension between them disappear when she curls into him readily.

“Sure, Mo. You can have whatever you want on yours.”

* * *

Later, after Morgan is put to bed, Peter is reading on the couch when he suddenly feels the buzz from the night before come back-- that same feeling of being watched returning. This time instead of demanding yet another fruitless perimeter check from FRIDAY, he instead pulls out his phone and calls Tony on video chat-- feeling immediately more at ease when the man answers on the second ring, his familiar smile filling Peter’s phone screen.

“Hey Pete, what’s up? It hasn’t even been two hours-- Little Miss finally got you at the end of your rope?”

“No, nothing like that,” Peter says, giving a small smile in return-- hoping he looks better than he feels. “Just-- wanted to have a conversation with another adult, I guess. Haven’t been many of those the last few days, at least not without Mo around.”

Tony cocks his head, eyes narrowing. “You sure? Because you have that pinched look you get when you’re holding something back because you don’t think it’s worth bothering me about, and we both know how well that usually ends.” Tony pauses, then adds, “Though now I think on it, historically speaking it could also just mean you have indigestion, in which case-- don’t share. I know we’ve grown close, but some things are best left a mystery.”

Peter laughs despite himself. “For a genius who solved time travel you’re incredibly immature sometimes, has anyone ever told you that?”

“Only Pep every single day since I met her. Now, what’s going on, kid?”

“It’s really not a--”

“Nuh-uh-uh, none of that ‘not a big deal’ bullshit. Something’s bugging you. Spill.”

Peter shakes his head-- already feeling bad for bothering the Starks on the last night of their vacation. “It’s really nothing, I promise. At least, nothing that can’t wait until you guys get home tomorrow.”

“We’ll be back in,” - Tony checks his watch - “about sixteen hours.” He looks back up at Peter, gaze still concerned. “Care to give me the Cliffnotes version, at least?”

Peter sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “Has Morgan ever mentioned someone named Cubie to you?”

Tony’s brow furrows. “Cubie? Can’t say that rings a bell. Is that a character in one of her books?”

“No, or at least-- I don’t think so. It’s this new imaginary friend she claims she met by the treehouse a few days ago. But she keeps insisting he’s real, and on top of that my senses have been acting up all week and--”

“Wait, what?” Tony asks, voice low and worried. “You mean your-- tingle? That sense?”

Reluctantly, Peter nods.

“What the hell, kid? That’s something you should have told us as soon as-- Pete? What’s wrong?”

Peter’s mind takes a moment to catch up to his body-- limbs and lungs having gone completely still on instinct. It takes him not even a microsecond after that to recognize it’s because the low hum in the back of his mind has suddenly amped up to a piercing scream, Peter jumping off the couch and looking every which way for the source of danger.

_ Something’s wrong something’s wrong something’s wrong-- _

“Something’s wrong,” Peter breathes out, looking back down at his phone screen where Tony is watching him, eyes wide and terrified. “Something-- no, someone is coming. Someone bad. Shit, I-- I gotta get Morgan.”

“Peter, what’s--”

Peter ignores him, looking up at the ceiling. “FRIDAY, activate Intruder Proto--”

Before Peter can finish his sentence everything suddenly goes dark, Peter blinking a few times until he’s able to make out shadows in the moonlight and realizing that no, it’s not his sight-- the power has gone out.

Desperate, he looks back down at the phone-- seeing that the call was abruptly cut short, along with a message that he’s lost the signal. Which means--

“FRIDAY?” he calls out, swearing when there’s no reply.

_ Someone’s coming someone’s coming someone’s coming-- _

Dropping his phone Peter races off in the direction of the stairs, intent on getting Morgan and locking them both down in Tony’s basement lab that - when activated either by FRIDAY or manually - also operated as the cabin’s panic room.

Yet before he’s even gone two steps he hears the creak of an upstairs window sliding open, followed by the sound of Morgan excitedly greeting someone.

Peter’s only just reached the bottom of the stairs when he spots Morgan at the very top in her pajamas, jumping up and down and looking excited.

“Peter, come up! Cubie’s here! He said it’s time for the fireworks!”

“How about we go down instead, princess?” someone whispers, Peter’s breath catching in his throat as he realizes he knows that voice.

_ No, it can’t be. _

It can’t be, but somehow - impossibly - it is, a person he thought he'd never see again stepping out from the shadows behind Morgan. Peter watches in horror as they take her hand and flash her a soft smile before turning their gaze on Peter-- giving him a wide, toothy grin.

“Long time no see, kid. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”


	3. Chapter 3

_This is impossible. This can’t be real-- can it?_

Peter’s mind races, his senses screaming at him as a foe he’d long thought dead smiles, walking down the steps with Morgan.

“See! I told you Cubie was real!” Morgan says happily.

“That’s right, it’s me-- Cubie,” the unwelcome visitor announces, still grinning. “Spider-Man likes puns, don’t you? Well, didja get this one, Peter?”

And suddenly, with horrifying clarity, the pieces fall into place.

_“Cubie made a rainbow in the sky just by waving his hand.”_

_“Cubie says Spider-Man just causes trouble and that if you didn’t have him or MJ you’d spend more time with me.”_

_“Cubie says he can’t meet you until the show starts.”_

Peter’s heart is pounding, wondering how hell he’d missed it - the truth so glaringly obvious that it’s practically slapping him across the face.

This entire week, Morgan hadn’t been saying Cubie but _Q.B.,_ Peter watching in horror at seeing Quentin Beck - in a dollar store version of his old costume, minus the helmet - gently holding Morgan’s hand, his eyes dancing between the two of them as they come to a stop at the foot of the stairs. 

Peter has so many questions right then, like how Beck managed to shut down FRIDAY, or how he found out where the Starks lived in the first place, or hell-- how in the world he was even _alive_ when Peter had seen him die, even going so far as to have EDITH confirm it.

But he doesn’t have time to dwell on how Beck had pulled this whole thing off, not when Morgan is still standing next to him. Protecting her came first, at any cost.

“Not even a hello, Peter?” Beck asks, expression turning into a mock frown. “I’m honestly hurt.”

“Morgan,” Peter says, ignoring Beck, “come over here.”

Morgan frowns. “But--”

“Don’t argue, Mo,” Peter orders her, putting as much steel into his voice as he can. “Now, please-- come here.”

With a sigh, Morgan starts to pull away from Beck, only for Beck to hold tightly to her hand, Morgan visibly wincing. 

“Ow! You’re hurting me!” 

“Sorry sweetheart,” Beck replies, voice sickeningly syrupy. “But you can’t go over there yet, okay? You need to stay here with me.”

“But Peter said--”

“I don’t _care_ what Peter said,” Beck snaps, giving just enough of himself away that Morgan stills, before glancing at Peter with wide eyes.

“Let her go, Beck,” Peter says.

Beck shakes his head, expression and tone both turning venomous as he says, “I don’t think so.”

Just then Morgan tries to yank her hand out of his, nearly succeeding before Beck pulls her roughly toward him, clasping an arm tight across her neck to hold her in place.

Panicked, Peter steps forward to grab her away-- only to halt when Beck pulls a small revolver out of a pocket, pointing it right at Morgan’s head as he looks up at Peter with a maniacal sheen in his eyes. “Come another inch closer and I’ll paint this room with her brains.”

Morgan screams Peter immediately freezes in place, putting his arms up in a placating gesture.

“Whatever you want, Beck, you can have it,” he says, watching as Morgan starts to sob, tear-filled eyes silently begging Peter for help. “Just don’t hurt her.”

Beck huffs out a laugh. “Your need to protect Stark’s spawn is adorable, it really is. But we’re doing this my way.”

“Doing what, exactly?” Peter asks, then, “If it’s me you want, you can have me. Just let her go.”

“What I _want_ ,” Beck says pointedly, “is another shot at taking you down. But even I’m not too proud to admit that that’d be kind of difficult, wouldn’t it, Peter? After all, I’m not enhanced like you, and you’ve already shown you can beat my tech. So hmm, I wonder… what am I to do to beat the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man?”

Peter shakes his head, eyes flitting down to where Beck’s finger visibly shakes against the trigger of the gun. “Cut the crap, Beck. Let her go and we can--”

“Let’s even the playing field, shall we?” Beck says, looking gleeful as he presses a button on his suit, Peter watching as a plastic vial filled with a bright orange liquid pops out from a hidden compartment, landing on the floor between them and coming to a rest a few feet from Peter.

“Drink that, and I’ll let the brat go.”

Peter swallows hard as he looks down at the vial, his senses screaming even as he leans over and picks it up. He doesn’t know what it is, but he can only assume it’s designed to incapacitate him-- maybe even kill.

Everything in him tells him not to do it. But then Morgan lets out another scream, Peter glancing back up to see Beck pressing the barrel hard into her hair, just above her ear.

“Well? Time’s a’wasting, Peter. If you’re too much of a coward, that’s fine-- I have no problem dispatching Little Miss Heiress here.”

Frantically Peter runs through his limited options, but the only even sort of viable one - a head-on surprise attack - is simply too risky. 

Protecting Morgan is all that matters in the end, Peter reminds himself. What happens to him after that doesn’t matter as long as she stays safe.

“Let her go and I’ll drink it,” Peter tells him, Beck raising an eyebrow as he shakes his head.

“What did I tell you? We’re doing things my way. You drink first, and only _then_ will I let her go.”

Peter stares hard at Beck for a few moments, trying to gauge if he’s telling the truth. The man is certainly very good at hiding his intentions, Peter knows that from experience. But for all that Beck might be a good liar, Peter thinks that if he wanted to kill both of them, he would have already done away with Morgan days ago. After all, he certainly had plenty of chances. 

No, this must truly just be about Peter.

“Okay, I’ll do it,” Peter says, Beck smiling gleefully.

“Glad you’re seeing sense,” the villain says as Peter unscrews the cap.

“Peter, don’t!” Morgan cries out, Beck sneering down at her.

“Stop your sniveling, kid. It’s just orange juice, isn’t it Pete?”

Peter sniffs the liquid, noting that it doesn’t seem to have a smell beyond being faintly acidic. The lack of a distinct scent somehow makes it seem all the more dangerous to consume, but Peter pushes away his worry-- looking at Morgan and saying with as much confidence as he can muster, “It’s going to be okay, Mo. Don’t worry about me.”

“Peter,” Morgan begs through her tears, but Peter steels himself-- taking a deep breath before knocking the liquid back, swallowing it in one gulp.

He tosses the vial onto the floor, looking back at Beck. “Okay, I did it. Now let her go.”

For one terrifying second Peter thinks Beck will go back on the deal. But then he smiles, pulling the gun and his other arm away as with a whimper Morgan runs over to Peter, wrapping her arms around his middle and sobbing into his t-shirt.

“Morgan, thank god,” Peter says, hugging her back. He considers for a second taking her and bolting, only for his vision to go a bit wonky-- the toxin already taking effect. 

No bolting, then. He has to get Morgan to safety before it gets any worse.

Ignoring the vertigo he gets at the movement, Peter picks Morgan up in one swoop.

“No funny business, champ,” Beck orders, pointing the gun up at them again.

Despite his fury at once more having the weapon aimed in Morgan’s direction, Peter merely nods tightly at Beck before walking slowly over to the basement lab door.

He sets Morgan down so that he’s between her and Beck, using one hand to hide the code as he inputs it with the other-- thankful that Tony had been paranoid enough to make the room’s security systems separate from FRIDAY, just in case of a threat like the one they were facing now.

Colorful spots are beginning to dance in the corners of his vision but Peter manages to get the code right the first time, the door cracking open. Only then does he crouch down, forcing himself to focus on Morgan and Morgan alone.

“Mo, I need you to go downstairs and press the panic room button, okay? You remember how to do that?”

Morgan nods even as her chin wobbles. Peter hates seeing her so upset but he forces himself to ignore it, continuing, “And after that you stay down there no matter what you hear. You don’t come out for _anyone_ unless they know the special phrase, got it?”

The special phrase was _Gerald loves you 3000,_ a reference to the Stark’s old alpaca that had passed away the year before and something that Peter knows Morgan couldn't have forgotten-- having had it drilled into her by her parents on multiple occasions.

“But you gotta come too!” Morgan wails even as she nods again, more tears falling when Peter shakes his head.

“I can’t, Mo. I have to--”

“I’m sorry!” she cries, wrapping her arms around Peter’s neck and sobbing into his collarbone. “I’m really sorry! Please don’t leave me!”

“Oh, darling, why all the tears?” Beck mockingly asks from where he’s still standing on the other side of the room, voice back to syrupy-- though even in his growing haze, Peter doesn’t miss the edge of impatience tinging it. “Peter and I are just gonna have a party, remember? With the fireworks?”

Beck laughs then, yelling, “Happy early Fourth of July, sweetheart!”

The booming sound causes Morgan to startle in his arms, Peter hugging her tightly again before pulling away. “This isn’t your fault, okay? You don’t have anything to be sorry for, but I need you to go down there now.”

“But Peter--”

“I love you, Mo,” Peter says, wiping away the tears on her cheeks with his fingers before giving her a kiss on the forehead-- standing up and ushering her onto the top stair right inside the door.

“Please don’t go! I’m sorry!”

“Remember-- press the button, then don’t come out for anyone who doesn’t know the special phrase,” Peter reminds her, moving to close the door before she can protest any further. The last he sees of Morgan are her wide, red-rimmed eyes begging him to stay with her before the door slams shut, Peter pulling on the handle twice for good measure.

Peter hears Beck start toward him and whips his head to glare at him as he orders, “Just wait a damn second.”

To his surprise Beck does just that, pausing and raising an amused eyebrow at Peter as he leans an ear against the door, waiting. The dancing colors in his vision are becoming more and more distracting by the second, and he struggles to stay focused. Thankfully just then he hears the clear sounds of reinforced vibranium sliding out of the walls, creating the small space in the southeast corner of the lab that served as the panic room-- only undone by hitting the same button that had started it all in motion to begin with.

 _Morgan’s safe,_ he thinks with a small, relieved smile. No matter what happens to him now, at least he succeeded in protecting her.

Now he just has to stop whatever plans Beck has before the toxin completely incapitates him.

Peter twists around to face the villain, only to feel as if he is suddenly on a tilt-a-whirl - like the whole world is shifting off its axis, causing him to stagger away from the door.

Beck grabs him roughly by the shoulder seemingly to steady him, Peter immediately tensing only to pause when Beck’s mouth brushes against his ear as he whispers, “Oh no, no, let’s not make a mess of the house, Peter. Wouldn’t want to have sweet little Morgan get caught in the crossfire, would we?”

Peter’s heart feels like it’s leapt up to his throat, allowing Beck to roughly push him towards the front door - the toxin of whatever is flowing through his system working fast now, turning the world around him into absurd colors of orange and red.

It’s disorienting, enough that his regular senses are competing with his spider ones - so much so that when Beck pushes Peter forward to the ground in front of the cabin, he’s confused enough to lose his balance.

Peter knows it’s nighttime, knows he’s at the lake house and that Beck is somewhere within feet of him - but everywhere around him has changed into something completely different, resembling a battleground with destroyed buildings.

He sees a clock tower that looks like Big Ben in the distance, backing up until he’s against something hard - only to turn and see the head of the Statue of Liberty, his senses screaming at him that something was wrong.

A bright spark of yellow suddenly illuminates the sky, Peter’s glancing up at it as he tenses - watching it explode - _like a firework,_ Peter thinks as Beck’s voice rings out from somewhere in the distance. 

“Did you _really_ think you could beat me Peter? That it would be so easy?” Peter stands on shaky legs, bracing himself against the Statue of Liberty even if a distant part of him tells himself it isn’t that - remembering the last time Beck had done this in an abandoned warehouse in Berlin.

“This isn’t gonna work, Beck,” Peter yells, trying to maintain his balance even if gravity tries to fight against him, “you can’t trick me anymore.”

“Whoever said anything about _tricking_ you?” Beck snarls, Peter’s senses screaming at him to move as he leaps to the right - feeling the singe of something almost like fire rain down against him. 

More fireworks rush into the sky, a brilliant display of green, purple, red and blue - magnificent and dazzling enough to distract Peter from his drugged out gaze, trying to shake it off as he crawls away from the light show. 

The ground shifts beneath him, something that looks like a telephone booth shooting up from below. Peter immediately goes to send out some webs, only to remember that he doesn’t have his suit - doesn’t have any kind of tech with him - FRIDAY still knocked out and some unknown toxin coursing through his bloodstream as he gets back up to his feet.

 _Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit_ , Peter scrambles backwards only to sense something else coming - dodging out of the way seconds before it hits, a wave of sparkling tendrils that looks so much like fireworks raining down on the orange-red ground around him.

Yet Peter knows it isn’t fireworks, knows it in the way he didn’t back in Berlin - that this was all a trick and that Beck had somehow gotten his hands on some kind of drones or illusion tech once more. Peter curses the fact that he’d let his guard down, that he’d been so quick to believe that everything was finally settled. 

“What do you want from me?” Peter yells out, glancing around at the landscape - forcing himself to remember that he’s at the lake house, that anything Beck is using is just masking what’s actually there.

He backs up into another phone booth, his senses tingling in recognition as he braces himself against it. _It’s a tree_ , Peter thinks to himself - trying to force his mind to remember the layout of the front of the cabin all while his vision is starting to warp, a part of him wondering how much of it had to do with the drug or the illusion itself.

He feels hot, sweat trickling down his neck as he shivers - forcing himself to focus when he hears Beck’s laughter in the distance. 

“To show you what it’s like to lose, Peter,” Beck replies calmly, his voice sending a chill down Peter’s spine. Peter clenches his fist, grounding himself in place as he leans forward. 

“Well come on out then and fight!” Peter taunts, the world shifting again - so fast that it makes Peter’s head spin, blinking a few times when he sees her - a repeat image of what he’d seen almost three years ago.

“Peter!” MJ yells out, scrambling off the edge of something as Beck holds her by the neck - everything telling him it’s a trap, that MJ is safe on the other side of the world right now.

 _This isn’t real. This isn’t real. This isn’t real._

His blood turns cold when Beck smiles at him and yells out, “Pity you didn’t get to spend more time together. At least she got to see Paris before she died.”

 _No_ , Peter thinks, a distant part of him recognizing that there’s no way for him to grab her in time - yet the sight of MJ being dropped off into oblivion immediately grips him, rushing forward on instinct as Beck throws her off into the distance. Peter jumps in after her, crashing headfirst into the ocean, or something that feels just like it - the water like ice as MJ disappears in front of his eyes.

It’s dark and murky - _it’s the lake, you’re in the lake_ \- Peter pulling himself up to the surface only for the fireworks to light up the sky above him just as something pierces him in his left side, Peter crying out as water rushes into his mouth, waving his hands around and kicking forward until he finds air - wheezing as he glances around.

The world is dark now, Peter swimming towards the bank - reminding him of how he felt when he’d fallen into the Hudson after following Toomes. His senses are still ringing, pulling himself over the water’s edge as the ground shifts once again - the beach changing into concrete, though Peter can still sense the shifting sand underneath him as he lowers into a crouch. 

He glances up, another firework lighting up the sky - pushing himself forward as Beck calls out, “You like the show, Peter? I’ve spent a long time trying to figure out what we should do this time around. Should’ve guessed that you wouldn’t have been able to fight against your own instincts.”

Peter wheezes, gingerly touching the spot on his side where he’s been pierced only to wince. It _feels_ like a bullet wound, something Peter’s entirely too familiar with, but it looks like he’s been cut clean through - blinking a few times as he stands. 

“And I should’ve guessed you wouldn’t be brave enough to fight me without any tech,” Peter gasps, swallowing down the pain as he calls out, “Where the hell did you even get all of this?”

“You’ve made a lot of enemies, kid,” Beck says, Peter flinching at the use of that nickname as he continues, his voice echoey and distant, “But of course, the world still sees the _amazing_ Spider-Man.” 

Beck’s words start to slur together for Peter, gritting his teeth as he glances around his surroundings - his eyes telling him that he’s seeing a dark and empty alleyway in New York but his senses reminding him that he’s still back at the cabin. He closes his eyes, partly to try and block out the pain and another rush of fireworks from the sky - _it’s drones, he’s using drones_ \- but also as a means to ground himself, to try and make sense of where he was in reality. 

The drugs and the blood loss are starting to get to him and for a moment Peter forgets that Morgan is safe, eyes nearly opening in his alarm before he remembers she’s in the panic room. But still, he doesn’t trust Beck not to somehow trick her if he hasn’t already, while Peter has been distracted. With that thought he wills himself to focus his hearing, his senses still ringing.

There’s the low hum of the drones as they fly towards Peter, the crickets and the chittering of animals in the forest in the distance and then - finally - the thing Peter was listening for: two heartbeats, one rapidfire one some twenty feet away and another not even ten feet from him. 

Feeling reassured that Morgan is still safe, Peter keeps his eyes closed as he moves, darting in a zig zag against the gunfire only to get hit again - letting out a sharp cry as another shot rings out and slices through his right leg, causing his knees to buckle as he gasps. 

It hurts more than the first time, a part of Peter wondering if it cut across something important for how suddenly woozy he becomes on top of the effects of the toxin - feeling his chest heave as Beck laughs. 

“Oh Peter, Peter, Peter,” his voice comes back into focus, “You know, I’ve really loved getting to catch up with little Morgan or _Mo_ as you call her. Such a cute nickname.” 

Peter grinds his teeth again, curling his fingers into the ground - _mud, not concrete_ \- and trying to get control of his pained breathing as Beck starts to monologue. 

“She’s really a sweet girl, Peter. It’s a pity that you won’t be around to watch her grow up.”

“Oh yeah?” Peter asks, eyes still closed as he focuses on Beck’s heartbeat - hoping that the arrogance of the man in front of him would actually bring him closer. His leg and his senses are both screaming at him, feeling blood trickle out of the wound on his side - but Peter ignores them, remaining tense as he waits for Beck to get within arm’s reach.

He hopes that Beck just thinks he’s in pain, that he actually believes he’s defeated Peter - knowing that if he allows Beck to get too far from him again that he’s not sure he’ll be able to stay conscious long enough to fight him, a fatal mistake. 

Peter’s hunch turns out to be right, hearing his heartbeat and his footsteps as Beck walks closer to him and says, “Such a shame. To think, she actually wanted to _protect_ you. Told me all about MJ and Spider-Man.” Beck laughs as he comes closer, Peter grimacing in pain but also in preparation - the wheeze that comes out of him only half-exaggerated as Beck continues, “At least now she won’t have to worry about either of them.”

“But of course,” Beck adds with relish, Peter hearing him kneel down only inches in front of him, “she won’t have her precious _Peter_ with her either.” 

Peter lets out a cough, feeling a hot, sticky liquid coming up from his throat as Beck laughs - knowing from the tone of it that the man thinks he’s won. Peter stays still even as his senses ring again in anticipation - hearing the hum of the drones as they start to warm up for what Peter can only assume is Beck’s finale. 

“Can’t say I’m gonna miss her, the little shit. Just a little too trusting… just like you, Peter. All too willing to believe that everything will work itself out.” 

“You’re--you’re wrong,” Peter coughs out, hearing Beck cackle. 

“Wrong? How am I--”

But before Beck gets the chance to finish his statement, Peter takes advantage of the moment - propelling himself off his hands and knees and forward until he makes contact with Beck, opening his eyes to see his hands enclosed around the man’s neck. 

The illusion drops at that, Peter having cracked through whatever shielding Beck had had encased around him - the inky blackness of the night sky falling across his vision, Beck’s eyes wide and terrified as Peter glares at him. 

He can hear the drones hovering in the distance, only two or three now that Peter can actually see them - his fingers in a tight vise grip around Beck’s neck.

“You--you wouldn’t--” Beck gasps out, Peter pressing his thumb against the pulse point in his neck, leaning forward. 

Peter uses his other hand to knock him out, loosening his grip on his neck as he does so - Beck’s head slumping backwards. Peter’s chest heaves, hearing Beck’s heartbeat but waiting to see if he is actually unconscious - the seconds that pass feeling like hours before he slumps backwards, grabbing at whatever remote is in Beck’s hand. 

He’s more woozy than ever, pressing at any buttons that he can until the drones deactivate - Peter letting out a huff as they fall to the ground. 

Everything around him is starting to shift once again, but less having to do with any kind of illusion and everything to do with his injuries - his whole left side feeling numb and his right leg on fire, rolling over onto his back.

He glances over to Beck once more, content that he’s actually knocked out. Peter laughs in relief to himself only to wince when he remembers Morgan-- a current of guilt passing through him like lightning.

He should’ve been more careful, more aware - should’ve pressed more about “Cubie” from the moment Morgan had mentioned him. But Beck had been the one to underestimate him, his own arrogance having him believe that he could use the same tech and the same illusions like he had before and still take Peter down just because he was drugged.

Yet even as Peter thinks that, a wave of nausea passes over him - seeing something that looks like another firework pass through the sky as his gaze lazily wanders upward. His enhanced senses are muted now, though how much of that has to do with the danger having passed or blood loss Peter doesn’t know - wondering to himself if whatever Beck had given him is somehow inhibiting his healing. 

Peter tries to force himself up only for a sharp pain to shoot across his leg, clutching at the wound on his side and collapsing back to the grass as the firework grows closer and closer. 

A distant but calm hum flares up in his mind then, Peter feeling a corner of his lips turn up as he somehow recognizes that he’s finally safe-- that this particular firework is not a threat. At the thought Peter’s eyelids flutter closed, more than just his spidey senses going dim now as the world starts to fade into the background of the encroaching darkness.

“Peter? Peter!”

Yet despite hearing his name Peter is unable to bring himself to pay the new voice - _Tony, it’s Tony_ \- any attention, not even when there’s a warm hand on his cheek.

Peter continues to drift for a while, just about to fall over the cliff of full unconsciousness when he feels something press into his injured flank, pain igniting from the wound.

“Shit, that hurts,” Peter mumbles, wincing and slitting one eye open to glare at Tony, who lets out a sharp gasp in response even as he doesn’t let up from where his hand is covering Peter’s injury, trying to stem the flow of blood.

“Peter, where’s Morgan?” Tony asks him, expression one of barely concealed panic.

 _Morgan?_ Peter thinks, brain muddled and confused. _Why would you ask-- Mo!_

“Panic room,” Peter says, or thinks he does-- everything starting to fall away again, even the pain in his leg and side. “She’s okay.”

Tony lets out a relieved sigh at that, looking up at the sky with wet eyes for a moment before back down at Peter. 

“You scared me, kid. When I saw you stand up only to drop like that, I thought…” 

“M’okay, Tony,” Peter mumbles, closing his eyes again. “Jus’ t’red. Need… t’a take a nap…”

“Peter? Stay awake, kid. Peter? Peter!”

Peter wants to listen, he really does. But no matter how hard he tries he finds he can’t make himself stay, mind drifting further and further from Tony’s increasingly panicked calls until he blinks out of existence entirely.

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

The first time Peter wakes up, it’s to the touch of a cool hand on his forehead. He tries to open his eyes but they don’t seem to want to cooperate, staying stubbornly closed. Something plastic is covering his mouth and nose, itchy and irritating, and he tries to lift an arm to move it. But just like his eyelids, his limbs feel weighed down by an invisible force-- refusing to listen to his commands.

Peter groans in frustration and perhaps a bit of panic, the hand on his forehead moving to his cheek and caressing it comfortingly. The touch is familiar and that’s when he remembers suddenly-- beating Beck just as the final firework -  _ Tony _ \- appeared. Peter falling into oblivion but trusting he would be okay because Tony was there and Tony would take care of everything.

“T’ny?” he whispers, or thinks he does. Tony had been there before, so it would make sense it was with Peter now, right?

“It’s May, sweetheart,” a beloved voice replies, and Peter smiles.

“May,” he repeats softly, one of his aunt’s thumbs rubbing soothingly over his eyebrow as if to offer confirmation. “T’ny? Mo?”

“Tony is off somewhere dealing with that piece of-- with that man. Morgan’s with Pepper.”

Peter tries to nod but doesn’t think he quite manages it. His brain feels like it’s made of molasses, and his thoughts are syrupy and thick-- getting stuck on his tongue. “M’hmm… s’fe?”

“Everyone’s safe, sweetheart. You’re the only one we’re worried about.”

Peter’s brow furrows, unsure why they’d be worried about him-- he’s right here, isn’t he? And he doesn’t feel hurt at all, just weighed down and… heavy… and tired…

“May, I’m…”

“Shhh, it’s okay, Peter. Just get some more rest now, alright?”

Peter feels May’s thumb smooth out the wrinkles of confusion on his brow, the repetitive motion pulling him back down into the darkness. He’s out again before he can form a reply.

* * *

The second time Peter wakes up, he can hardly remember the first time-- just the ghost of May’s fingers caressing his face, along with the calming knowledge that everyone he loved was okay. There’s no mask tickling his chin anymore but he can feel a nose cannula delivering oxygen, and things seem somehow less fuzzy even as his thoughts still slosh about in his mind. 

Unlike last time his eyes blink open readily, the ceiling of his personal compound medbay room greeting him-- Peter recognizing it immediately from the drawings taped to the ceiling panels directly above his head that Morgan had done the year before. 

Peter had been in a very  _ minor  _ drug-induced coma at the time following a nasty team-up fight with Sandman and Kraven, and Morgan had apparently insisted that he would need happy things to look at when he woke up. Since then the collection had only been added to with every one of his visits, and Peter feels his lips turn up at the sight of so many drawings of his family-- only for his eyes to go wide when the memories of why he’s here  _ now _ start to flood back in.

“Beck-- where’s-- oh god, Mo--”

Peter starts to sit up only for a hand to land on his shoulder, stilling him. “Calm down, kid. Everything’s okay.”

Peter twists his head to see Tony sitting in a chair next to his bed, bags under his eyes and a look of slight consternation on his face. But there’s no red puffiness or other obvious signs of distress, which tells Peter that everything really must be more or less okay-- that Tony isn’t just placating him.

“Tony.”

At the plain greeting his mentor smiles, giving Peter’s shoulder a fond pat before sitting back in his chair. “In the flesh, kid. But forget about me, you’ve been out for almost 26 hours-- how ya feeling?”

Peter looks down at himself, trying to take stock. His left flank is swathed in a thick bandage, and he can feel the all-too-familiar tightness of stitches both there and along his right thigh. Where the pain had been blinding when he’d been initially injured, it’s dulled now-- no doubt due to the specially-synthesized pain meds Dr. Cho had cooked up for him years ago. 

However, what the meds are seemingly  _ not _ helping with is the piercing throb in his head, pounding with every heartbeat. Peter closes his eyes, trying to fight back the building nausea creeping up on him with every breath. “M’head hurts.”

He hears the creak of Tony’s chair, and then there’s a cool hand over his forehead-- just as May had done however long ago before. 

“Yeah, Helen thought that might happen,” Tony says softly, continuing, “Your body is still flushing out the drug that asshole made you take, and until it’s gone you’re going to have some slight withdrawal symptoms. It’ll pass though, probably pretty quick now you’re awake.”

Peter takes a few deep breaths, trying to focus past the pain and instead on the pressure of Tony’s callused palm over his brow. It helps, and after a few minutes the pain has dialed back enough that Peter is able to open his eyes again, Tony pulling his hand back even as a corner of his lips turn up-- looking down at Peter fondly.

Peter licks his lips before saying,“I thought he was dead.”

It’s more of a statement than a question, and Tony grits his teeth, eyes going distant.

“Yeah, I thought so too,” Tony says, jaw working. “Can’t say I’m surprised that SHIELD didn’t do their due diligence, considering the place was being run by an incompetent baffoon at the time-- not that Fury is much better, mind you. In any case Beck is claiming he managed to trick everyone using nothing but a body double and a stolen photostatic veil. Hard to tell what’s the truth and what’s not with him, but Nat seemed to think he wasn’t lying.”

Peter raises an eyebrow. “Fury let you guys interrogate him?”

Tony shrugs, trying and failing to look casual as he says, “Let’s just say we managed to get a bit of ‘alone time’ in before Nick and his useless band of idiots hauled him away.”

Peter frowns. “Tony, tell me you didn’t--”

“Just two punches-- one for each of my kids,” Tony interjects, though he looks displeased, adding, “Nat said no to everything else, argued it would be  _ counterproductive. _ Bunch of bullshit if you ask me.”

Peter huffs out a laugh, before asking, “But how did Beck even know you guys were gone? Or-- or anything that was happening at the cabin? I mean, he looked disheveled but not like he’d been camping out in the woods for a week.”

Tony sighs. “Turns out he’s been hiding out at an abandoned hunting shack about five miles west of our property. Sam and Buck found a bunch more tech stashed out there-- they’re transporting it now.” Tony pauses, wiping a hand across his face. “As for any surveilling, he was sending out lone drones to scope things out-- as long as they stayed far or high enough away FRI isn’t designed to detect them as anything more than random flying objects, same as birds.”

Peter nods. “That would explain why I kept feeling like I was being watched, but FRI didn’t notice anything.” He twists his head to look back at Tony-- the man staring back at him, eyes dark and stormy as if deep in thought. “But how did he shut her down completely? Until last night there’s no way he could have gotten closer than the perimeter without FRIDAY knowing-- right?”

Tony sighs again, his voice carrying a tinge of hesitation as he says, “I’m afraid Beck had a bit of help with that.”

At Peter’s confused expression Tony continues, “Morgan told us Beck gave her a thumb drive to upload into FRIDAY’s matrices. It contained a backdoor program which allowed him to mess with FRI’s code without alerting anyone. All Morgan had to do was go into the lab and insert it into her mainframe, and voila.”

Peter’s eyes go wide, remembering when he’d woken up from his nap only to find Morgan coming back from the basement. God, how could he have been so stupid? He’d known something was off all week-- had heard Morgan talking endlessly about “Cubie” and  _ still _ he hadn’t put any of it together. 

Tony must misinterpret the look of distress on Peter’s face, because his voice turns soft and reassuring when he adds, “Don’t worry, Pep and I have already had a conversation with her today about her behavior, and there will be a lot more to come. Morgan knows what she did was wrong, and--”

“No,” Peter grunts out, shaking his head. “It’s not that.”

When he doesn’t continue, Tony says, “Then what is it, Pete? You can tell me.”

The way Tony sounds so honestly curious, his eyes so open and concerned-- all of it only serves to make Peter feel worse. 

The sense of shame at how dismissive and blind he’d been threatens to overwhelm him, and Peter has to look back at the drawings, voice wet as he says, “I’m sorry, Tony. Shit… you probably won’t ever want me to see her again, and I wouldn’t blame you.”

“What on earth are you talking about?” Tony asks-- Peter sensing him lean closer but unable to look over as he barrels on.

“This-- this is all my fault,” Peter explains, the drawings above going slightly blurry as he continues, “I was the one who ignored Mo about Cubie and didn’t pay attention even though I  _ knew  _ something wasn’t right--”

“Peter--”

“--and then Beck nearly killed her and  _ fuck, _ I should have known it was him and his drones! It was right in front me the whole time but I just-- I didn’t see it and she nearly died and--”

“Peter,” Tony repeats, this time more firmly. “Look at me.”

Peter bites the inside of his cheek, closing his eyes for a few moments and taking a deep breath before finally glancing at Tony. Where he expects anger there’s only softness, Tony shaking his head and rolling his eyes fondly before lifting a hand and brushing back one of Peter’s stray curls.

“Kid,” Tony begins, “What part of  _ Beck was supposed to be dead _ did you miss here? Of course you didn’t think it was that asshole-- nobody would have.”

“But I still knew something wasn’t right,” Peter argues. “I should have--”

“Should have mentioned to me that your spidey sense was going nuts before last night?” Tony asks, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, probably. But I get you didn’t want to spoil our vacation, and besides-- FRIDAY said everything was fine. So please by all means, enlighten me as to how the hell you were supposed to--”

“Your daughter almost  _ died _ because of me, Tony,” Peter practically yells, unable to hide the self-disgust in his tone. “How-- how aren’t you mad right now? You should be livid with me!”

“On the contrary, kid-- my daughter is  _ safe _ because of you,” Tony says, something like pity behind his eyes before they turn hard and determined. “Pete, you willingly drank a vial of fuckin’ mystery liquid that for all you could have known would kill you, just to make sure Morgan was safe. Beck is the one who nearly shot Morgan, but you-- you saved her.” Tony shakes his head, voice going even more firm as he continues, “So this epically dumbass idea you have that I wouldn’t want you around my daughter anymore is just batshit, because-- because there’s nobody else I trust  _ more _ to protect her. Got it?”

Part of Peter - the part that always feels guilty in any bad situation he’s even sort of involved with - wants to continue to argue, but something in Tony’s expression keeps him silent. There’s an absolute certainty there, yes. But painted over it all is an unmistakably grateful awe that is etched in every wrinkle-- that overwrites every hard edge Tony is trying to carve into his words.

_ It’s love, _ Peter thinks, and even though he’s only had a few years to get used to seeing it from Tony, it never stops flooring him in the moments where he isn’t expecting it. 

“Got it,” Peter finally says, Tony giving him a smug smile in response before his expression goes soft.

“I’m glad you’re gonna be okay, kid,” Tony says after a while, brushing the wayward curl from earlier back out of Peter’s face again. “You and Morgan-- you two are everything to me.  _ Both _ of you.”

Before Peter can respond Tony pats his shoulder once more, grip lingering for a few extra moments before he stands up and heads to the door. “Try to get some more sleep, alright?”

“I will,” Peter replies, then adds, “Thanks, Tony.”

Tony gives him one last lingering look before he steps into the hallway, softly closing the door behind him with a smile and a nod.

* * *

Peter wakes up to the sound of the doorknob twisting open. It’s still dark out, and Peter - only halfway conscious - figures it must be the night nurse coming to check on him-- only to come to full awareness when he sees a tiny head peek in through the crack of the door.

“Mo?” he calls out sleepily, “Is that you?”

She hesitates for a moment before pushing the door open, closing it behind her as she steps into Peter’s room. 

“Hi,” she says meekly, looking at Peter like she did over two years ago when they first met - awkwardly biting her lip as she played with the edge of her shirt. 

“Hey, come here,” Peter says, patting the empty space on his right side. She does, lifting herself up onto the bed and sitting - Peter trying to hold back a wince when her movements jostle his thigh. 

He’s not as successful as he thinks he is because Morgan immediately frowns, looking at Peter with a panicked expression as she asks, “Did I hurt you?”

“No, no you’re--”

“I’m sorry, I’m so  _ so _ sorry, Peter,” Morgan starts to sob, Peter blinking a few times in surprise before immediately adjusting himself in the bed - trying to move to hug her even if doing so causes his side to scream at him. 

He ignores it, prioritizing Morgan’s clear and evident pain over his own as she nestles into his arms, Peter bringing her down until she’s cuddled right up alongside him. 

“It’s not your fault,” Peter whispers into her hair, gently rubbing up and down her back as Morgan continues to sob. 

“I’m so sorry,” she says, her voice muffled as Peter hugs her tighter, “I didn’t mean it.”

“I know you didn’t, Mo,” Peter says softly, understanding Tony’s words from earlier even more so as he says, “It’s okay.”

“It’s  _ not _ ,” Morgan wails, loudly enough that Peter wonders how long it’ll be before someone comes in after her - guessing from how secretive she had been in creeping into his bedroom that this wasn’t a planned visit, “Cubie was just so--so  _ nice _ . I didn’t--” she chokes out another sob, Peter just bringing her even closer.

He’d known that Morgan was jealous of MJ and of Spider-Man but he hadn’t realized just how far it went - that she’d listen to a stranger who promised to make it all go away rather than Peter himself.

But then, Peter thinks, it may not even go that far, reminding himself again that for as smart as she was, Morgan was still only seven - far more susceptible to being tricked than even Peter had been not two years ago. 

The reminder of that and of how terrified she must’ve been - locked up in the panic room while Peter fought off Beck - sends another wave of shame over him, one that he tries to swallow down as he thinks of Tony’s words. 

Peter lets Morgan cry into his chest for a few minutes, whispering soothing words and lightly brushing his hands through her hair until she starts to settle. When she does, Peter adjusts himself until Morgan lifts her head up, Peter smiling at her as he says, “I’m okay, Mo.”

Morgan bites her lip, her eyes red and welling with tears as she whispers, “I was scared.”

“Me too,” Peter answers honestly, brushing some hair out of her face, “But it’s okay now, Mo. You’re safe.” 

“But what if he finds me?” Morgan asks, her bottom lip trembling as she says, “I thought he was my-- my _ friend _ , but he wasn’t. What if Cubie comes back? What if he hurts  _ you  _ again?”

Peter immediately wants to tell her that he won’t - that she’ll never have to worry about Beck or any other danger that could possibly come for him. 

But something stops Peter - his guilt rearing its ugly head once again that he hadn’t anticipated the impossible, but also a sad truth. Because the truth was, there would never be a time when Peter would be completely safe from harm. 

He wants so badly to soothe Morgan, to at least promise her that she would always be safe even if he wouldn’t be. Yet with a piercing clarity, Peter realizes it would also be a lie to tell Morgan that no one would ever try to take advantage of her - try to harm her - again. 

And even if he wanted to, it’s clear he’s too late anyway - recognizing something new in Morgan’s gaze, a loss of innocence that Peter knows all too well from the losses he’d faced in his own life.

“If he ever tries, you know what’ll happen?” Peter finally replies, moving one of his hands so he can lift Morgan’s chin up. 

She shakes her head slightly, eyes still welling up with tears as Peter says, “If Cubie ever tries to come back, then I’ll kick his ass.”

Morgan’s eyes widen for a moment before she lets out a giggle, putting a hand over his mouth as Peter brings his hand down.

“Peter, that’s a bad word.” 

Peter laughs. “Yeah well, I think I earned one.”

Morgan sobers up at that, Peter seeing her lip start to tremble again before he says, “I mean it, Mo. You don’t have to worry about Cubie ever again.”

Morgan moves so that she can wrap her arms around Peter again, the force of it causing him to grimace but still choosing to grip his arms snuggly around her in a hug. 

He hates the thought of what trusting someone like Beck only to be so hurt by him would mean for Morgan in the future - remembering how it’d felt for himself in the weeks after he’d come back from Europe, still reeling from being so cruelly betrayed and manipulated only to have to wrestle with his identity being revealed. 

Knowing that Beck had taken advantage of Morgan in a similar way causes a chill to run down Peter’s spine, hating the idea that Beck had so callously taken Morgan’s love for Peter and twisted it for his own purposes, all just to get to him. 

But Peter forces himself to push that thought away, letting Morgan’s steady heartbeat ground him just as it had when he was fighting Beck - a reminder that no matter what happened in the future, Tony was right. 

Peter couldn’t promise Morgan that nothing bad would ever happen again or that she wouldn’t possibly get hurt. 

But he already knows that no matter what happens in the future, he would do anything to keep her safe. 

* * *

“Peter! Peter! Peter! Peter!”

Peter laughs as he gets out of the car, Morgan nearly flying with how fast she’s running down the steps of the cabin. 

“Hey Mo,” Peter says before letting out a soft oof, Morgan wrapping her arms tightly around him as he closes the door - hearing May laugh as she exits out of the passenger side.

“I  _ missed _ you,” Morgan says, Peter smiling as he looks down at her.

“You saw me like three days ago, Mo.” 

Morgan rolls her eyes at that, finally letting Peter out of the hug as Tony comes down the steps, Pepper not far behind him as she says, “That was  _ forever _ ago.”

Peter laughs at that once again, smiling as Tony comes up to him - wrapping up in a hug that feels just as fierce as Morgan’s was.

“Hey kid,” Tony whispers into his ear, squeezing him tightly Peter says, “Hey Tony.”

“Took you long enough,” Tony jokes as he hugs him once more before letting him go, Peter seeing a gleam of something mischievous in his eyes before he says, “Madam Secretary over here said we would have to eat without you if you didn’t show up soon.”

“I did  _ not _ ,” Morgan pouts, Pepper laughing as May says, “Well, we would’ve been here sooner but you know how Peter drives.”

“Hey!” Peter exclaims, the sound of it causing Pepper, May and Tony to laugh. 

“Sweetheart, you are many wonderful, amazing things but a good driver is not one of them,” May says plainly, Peter putting up a hand to his chest.

“May that’s--”

“Absolutely true. I know you’re a Queens boy and all but come on, Pete,” Tony says with a smirk, clapping his hand on his shoulder, “better work on that if you and MJ are ever gonna take that road trip.”

Peter rolls his eyes, only to catch Morgan’s expression falter slightly at the mention of his girlfriend - Pepper asking, “Did MJ ever decide if she was coming home for July 4th?”

Peter shakes his head, “She wanted to but I told her it was fine. Plane tickets aren’t cheap and you know, it’s not like she would’ve had the day off over there. She’ll be finished with her internship in August so we’ll get to see each other then.” 

“You know I could’ve flown her out, Pete,” Tony says, Peter shaking his head again as he smiles, only to frown when he catches the flash of jealousy on Morgan’s face at her father’s words-- Peter’s frown quickly softening into sympathetic understanding.

Having had a week to think it over, Peter knows it makes perfect sense for Morgan to want to go back to a time period when it had been just the four of them at the cabin, having Peter to herself while he recovered from Beck’s manipulations and the fallout of being exposed. After all, back then there had been no Spider-Man swinging around - Peter not sure at the time whether he’d ever even get to  _ be  _ Spider-Man again - and barely a mention of his then brand-new relationship with MJ. 

He should’ve expected that Morgan would be a little more clingy than normal, considering the last time she’d seen him had been when he was discharged from the medbay. After that first night, both her parents and Peter had each talked more with her about what happened - that “Cubie” manipulating Morgan had been wrong with an added emphasis that she shouldn’t be so quick to trust strangers. 

Tony told Peter later over the phone that he and Pepper had also talked to Morgan about how Peter being Spider-Man and his relationship with MJ didn’t mean he cared for her any less, something that Peter planned to reiterate to her this weekend. But he should’ve guessed that despite everything they’d talked through, the jealousy she felt wouldn’t so easily fade away.

Setting those thoughts aside for now, Peter turns back to the adults. “Thanks Tony, but I don’t mind waiting to see MJ, really. I don’t want her to miss any part of her internship and after everything that happened, it’s enough to know that she’s okay.” 

The collective atmosphere sobers then, none of the adults missing Peter’s meaning - knowing he’s referring to the illusions Beck had put him through. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been so obvious but it was still hard not to be, especially so soon after-- the terrifying memory of seeing MJ be flung off into oblivion for a second time - no matter that it was an illusion - causing a sinking feeling in his gut at the thought of it. 

But thankfully that hadn’t been real, and he’d get the chance to see MJ towards the end of the summer just as they planned. 

The silence lingers long enough to become uncomfortable, and in an effort to lighten the mood again Peter turns to Morgan and says, “So what were you  _ so _ excited about eating that you couldn’t wait for me huh?”

Morgan’s expression shifts at that, her eyes lighting up as she takes his hand and says, “Dad made pizza  _ and _ cheeseburgers!”

Peter exaggerates his facial features, letting Morgan lead him towards the porch as he asks, “Pizza and cheeseburgers?” then over his shoulder, “Does his  _ doctor _ know that he’s eating that kind of food?”

“Really rich coming from someone who once ate a dry packet of ramen, Pete,” Tony quips back, Peter laughing as he looks back to him - relieved to see the smiles back on everyone’s faces as he, Pepper and May follow the two of them. 

Peter turns his attention back to Morgan, swooping her up into his arms as they walk toward the cabin. He leans his face in until their noses are almost touching, giving her a few butterfly kisses on her cheeks before whispering, “You’re my favorite Morgan, remember?”

Morgan giggles, cupping a hand over Peter’s ear and whispering back, “And you’re my favorite Peter!”

Peter still hopes that with time Morgan will come around on MJ, knowing that she’d love her if she ever gave her the chance. But it’s not something he can convince her of now nor does he try to, grinning at Morgan as she smiles back - content with the knowledge that once again, it seemed everything had worked out.

Or well, so he hoped.

* * *

Later that evening finds Tony and Peter out on the porch with twin mugs of tea, all the others already gone to bed. It’s the first time all day Peter has had the chance to talk to Tony alone-- a chance he’s been waiting for, having had something on his mind the last few days that he hasn’t been able to shake.

“So uh, there was something else I remembered about the fight with Beck once I got back to the city,” Peter says, trying to sound casual as he uses one of his socked feet to push the porch glider they’re sitting on back and forth. 

Tony turns to look at him, expression curious. “Oh? What’s that?”

“In the middle of it all-- I asked him where he got all his tech, and he said something about how I’d made a lot of enemies, more than just him,” Peter says quietly, feeling Tony go tense next to him. “I don’t think he was working alone.”

After a few moments Tony hums thoughtfully. “Yeah, Nat and I already figured that was the case.”

Peter twists his head to look at Tony, eyes wide. “You did?”

Tony nods. “Beck is smart, I’ll give him that-- but one thing he is  _ not _ is a chemist of any sort. And that drug he gave you… that couldn’t have been synthesized anywhere but in a well-connected lab, and by someone knowledgeable enough to work out the dosage needed for your particular enhancements.”

Peter licks his lips nervously, taking a sip of tea from the mug in his hands as he tries to absorb Tony’s words. It’s nothing he hadn’t already guessed himself, but to hear it from Tony makes it suddenly much more real. “Has Beck said anything useful?”

Tony shakes his head. “Fury says he won’t give anything up about individual accomplices, though he did let slip a team name.”

“What’s that?”

Tony takes a sip from his own mug before saying quietly, “The Sinister Six.”

There’s a moment of silence as a chill runs through Peter, something about the moniker giving him goosebumps despite his certainty he’s never heard of it until this very moment.

Tony must have felt the shiver, because he doesn’t hesitate to lift an arm up-- bringing it around Peter’s shoulders and giving him a light squeeze. “But look, kid-- we haven’t found proof that this so-called ‘team’ even exists. For all we know, it’s something Mystery-Ass made up just to mess with us.”

Peter bites his lip, slowly nodding. “Yeah, probably.”

He doesn’t believe it, though, and it’s clear Tony doesn’t believe  _ him, _ sighing again before saying, “Listen. Between me and Nat and SHIELD we’re gonna get to the bottom of it one way or another, I promise. In the meantime, just stick to your regular beat and don’t chase after the big stuff for a while, okay?”

“It’s not like I always  _ know  _ I’m chasing after big stuff,” Peter mutters petulantly. “Sometimes the big stuff just finds me.”

Tony considers him for a moment, before nodding in agreement. “Fair. You  _ do _ have a knack for finding trouble even when you’re not looking for it.” He chuckles softly, taking another sip of his tea before his expression turns contemplative. “But seriously, Pete-- I don’t want you worrying too much about this Sinister Six business. Just focus on your internship and the rest will work itself out.”

“Fine by me,” Peter says honestly. “I actually can’t wait to start working with Dr. Octavius next week. His work in biochemistry and atomic physics is practically unparalleled, besides Dr. Banner of course.”

Tony smiles. “Just don’t blow yourself up, okay? We’ve had enough excitement for one summer already.”

Peter rolls his eyes goodnaturedly, before lifting his mug up. “To a nice, calm rest of the summer.”

Tony mirrors him, clinking his mug softly with Peter’s-- both of them taking twin sips. 

“Cheers to that, Pete.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are always appreciated! Or come hang out with us on tumblr: [blondsak](https://blondsak.tumblr.com) and [seekrest](https://seek-rest.tumblr.com).


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